Her father, in particular, had the means to make Damson’s ruin thorough and lasting, and he offered — carefully, watching her face — to see it done.

Aracely told him no, and was a little surprised herself by how easily the no came.

She had thought about it, in fairness.

There had been a night or two, early on, when the memory of five years of small cruelties had risen up in her and wanted an answer.

But when she examined the wish honestly, she found that what she wanted was not Damson’s suffering.

What she wanted was to be free of him, and she already was.